Those Eyes
by ChaoticIrony
Summary: Kakashi is a man on the edge of sanity - all it takes is for one rose-haired kunoichi to push him over the edge. And when she does, there might be no going back. KakaSaku obsession-fic
1. Part One

**A/N: **Hi guys! Yes, I know I should be posting new chapters of my other stories but I was just itching to get this one down on paper! So here it is, part one of a two part story.

Yeah, I still don't own Naruto nor do I think (unless I win lotto or something) I ever will.

I hope you enjoy, and **please please review** and let me know what you think!!

Song is _Those Eyes_ by Aussie band **Thirsty Merc** (Check it out - it's a great song)

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**Part One**

Sometimes, Kakashi cursed the day he decided to become a shinobi.

Sometimes - like today – being highly attuned to the world around him did _not_ work in his favour.

He heard the creak of the bar's front door opening and closing over the sounds of the inane chattering, and the drunken slurring. He heard it over the sporadic sound of pool cues striking ball against ball, the darts as they collided with their mark, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights leading the way to the bathrooms, and the old-fashioned and overplayed melodies singing out of the equally old-fashioned jukebox, perched in the corner like a conspicuous eye-sore.

He felt the breeze which flowed through the open door like an invisible river, washing up against his face and body like fingers of ice, harsh in comparison to the previously warm, smoky and stagnant air in the small but over-crowded Konoha pub.

The ice-fingers scratched against the three-day silver stubble which peeked over the top of the scarf that was wrapped securely around his jaw and stopped just over the bridge of his defined nose. He pulled the sides of his camouflage-green jacket hood closer around the sides of his face to keep out the draft, which had brought with it a particular smell, a smell his highly sensitive nose could detect even though it was covered, and it was a smell he did _not_ want to acknowledge right now.

It was _her_ shampoo.

_There's something about you girl  
A mystery  
I can't put my finger on  
Just what it could be_

He tried to stay focused on the bar in front of him; on the burly bartender with the Marley t-shirt and his long, tortoise-shell dreadlocks, or the lonely drunks to the left and right of him (to his left was an old-timer one shot off being a dribbling mess on the counter, to his right was a man he recognized as an ex-sensei from the academy, years ago now - obviously the years had not been kind), or the rows and rows of bottles that lined the rear of the bar in front of him; Jack, Jim, Jules, Jameson, Johnnie . . . his new soiree of friends ever since this fever had struck him – _why the hell did they all begin with J_?

He focused on their labels and colours; this one's label had been half scratched off, this one was leaking its sticky substance in a long liquid vein down one side of the glass, it pooled on the tabletop below – _anything_ to keep his mind occupied and his face pointed in _this_ direction, so that he couldn't see what was unmistakably in the bar behind him. He scrutinised the caps of each bottle; his sharp eye could see from where he sat – even with his Sharingan eye covered by an eye-patch – where the caps had been hurriedly returned at close the previous night to the wrong bottles, he had just began to count how many when a flash of very familiar pink moved in his vision, and he realised he had almost made a fatal mistake.

There was a giant mirror behind the bottles.

Kakashi glanced quickly down at his now empty glass sitting hollow on the counter of the bar. He swallowed, and felt the friction within his dry throat as his larynx rose and fell, his sandpaper-tongue scratching at the surface of his soft palate. He slowly raised his visible eye back up to the dreaded barman, and raised one arm and two slightly shaky fingers to call for a refill. Rastaman complied.

He leaned forward and rested his weary head on his palms as his drink was poured in front of him. If he could hide here for just a moment, maybe he could avoid the pain. He could just sit here and drink his drink, and mind his own business, and _stay the fuck away from that side of the bar_ and who knows? Maybe the source of his torment would miraculously disappear.

_But ever since you walked in  
A different energy  
Has taken my mind and heart away_

A tinkle of melodic harmony came to him then, as sweet as the chords of pipes made from honey, and he knew without turning that it was _her_. He tried to block it out - Kami help him, he tried - but the sound infected him, tore straight to his heart like a poisoned arrow.

His silver eyebrows knitted as he clenched his teeth against the sound, which cut into his throbbing brain like a scalpel. He clasped his glass firmly between both hands, and he stared apprehensively into their depths as he swilled the alcohol over and around the fresh ice cubes which filled it.

He needed to concentrate on something other than the pain. He forced himself to focus on the ice cubes, cool and refreshing - glistening in the overhead lights of the dim bar - and see-through, the cloudy solids a looking-glass to the blurred and twisted images beyond like some bizarre alternate dimension-

_Focus, Kakashi._

Too warped. Something real . . .

Water.

Ice equals water, water equals transparent, equals clarity; and clarity was what he needed.

Clarity could see that he needed help. Clarity knew that he wasn't just a sick old sensei with a not too healthy obsession for his very young student. Clarity knew that he was just a man, a man in love with a woman, a woman who just happened to be taboo to him.

Clarity could see that he was a man hovering on the edge of sanity.

His fingers relaxed around the glass they had been threatening to crush as the tentacles of pain inside his head receded. Brain bugs, he called them. They were his curse. A constant reminder of what he can not have, his punishment for years of death, and killing, and remorse. And guilt.

Kakashi sighed with relief.

He had managed to distract himself from the pain. This time.

He clasped the glass again lightly in his right hand and swilled the liquid within one more time, before quaffing the lot in one mouthful.

The liquor burned and soothed harmoniously in a strange sensation as it trickled down his throat to warm his chest like liquid fire.

He felt the tendrils of warmth expand as the liquor entered his blood stream, and flowed to the outer extremes of his body; arms, hands, fingers, legs, feet, toes, nose . . . ears. As the fire spread he could feel its flow, like chakra, lighting the gates as it passed through the channels, igniting his energy and charging him up like a wind-up doll.

He could feel it more intensely now, the clarity which he desired. He needed to see clearly lest the pain consume him. He needed to see clearly to fight the pull from _her_.

The brain bugs came more frequently lately. As if he didn't see her enough, day in and out, training and missions, meetings, debriefings, and those dreaded shinobi functions - those were the worst - where she would undoubtedly be dressed to the nines and oozing sensuality and the confidence of youth.

It was no wonder it had come to this. The others came and went, drifting in and out of his life as they liked, missions, family and other commitments a higher priority than one lonely old man. But not her. She was the one constant in his life. They were the same in that way, both alone, both tied to the village by ghosts of their past.

At first, he had taken it to be just a crush. A lonely old man's solution to fill in the many hours of boredom. A temporary fantasy to entertain a stale mind.

But as time wore on, and they spent more and more time alone together, and she had matured and grown into a woman with spunk and spark, he realised that instead of fading, his feelings had intensified.

That wouldn't have been so bad . . . had he not suddenly found himself acting on impulsive desires that before he would never have dreamed of entertaining.

It started with one sunny afternoon after training. One day, no different from any other. Except that when he waved goodbye to his rose-haired student as always, and prepared to walk back to his apartment in the other direction and pick up where he had left off his most recent Icha Icha escapades, as always - this time he stopped.

And turned back around.

And followed his student home.

He didn't remember much of the actual journey to her house - he walked in a daze, as if a man possessed, and when he thought back on it now, he thought . . . _maybe I was_.

What he did remember clearly was sitting in the giant oak opposite her home, perched on a large branch hidden amongst the abundant leaves. Watching her every move as she entered her second storey bedroom, as she attended to her nightly routine which he now knew so well; _Fourteen steps to the second floor, four steps from the stairs to her room. Light on, pack off – thrown onto the middle of the bed. Two steps to the ensuite, and five minutes inside to wash her face, _as evidenced by the small towel that she would bring out of the bathroom with her to toss carelessly into the hamper in the corner, and the stray, now cerise strands which would cling to her damp cheeks. _Three steps to the dresser, sit, pick up brush. Twenty brush strokes on the right side, twenty one on the left. _Twenty one. Always twenty one on the left, he didn't know why it bothered him so.

_Now she sat, _and this vexed him more, _she sat at the dresser and studied her reflection._ Every night.

What could she be thinking, every night, as she studied herself in the glass? He had wondered this over and over again, as he sat, on his branch, and watched. He knew it wasn't vanity; the expression on her face was not smug, or proud - in fact, if he had to call her expression anything he would say it was . . . sad.

He sighed. Yes, he had spent far too many hours watching her. But, as fate would have it, time had passed, and his crush, had turned love, had turned addiction.

And it really _was_ an addiction.

He craved her. He barely ate or slept any more – he didn't need all of that – all he needed was to see _her_. Hear _her_. Smell _her_ familiar shampoo.

Touch _her_? Now that was a notion he was eager to avoid. As it was he almost lost it when they _had_ to have contact during training, he could barely think straight, and she had triumphed in competition against him a few times because of it.

No, he was trying to quit her. To quit her like a nasty habit.

And he was trying. Kami knows, he was trying. He couldn't go cold turkey, because he was still her teacher in a sense. He was the leader of whatever team they could pull together at the time, a team which lately mostly consisted of just _her_ and the decrepit old relic which he saw in the mirror every morning.

So he had to cut back. Frankly, he would rather swallow razor blades.

Have you ever tried to quit something? Ever tried to quit something that you love, while it is being dangled in front of your face all day on a piece of string? Let me tell you it is no easy feat, even for a man as revered as Kakashi. Stronger men had tried, and failed, before.

And Kakashi was teetering on the edge. The brain bugs were the biggest problem. It was catch twenty-two; when he didn't have his daily dose they would come and nest in his head, their scurrying, hexapedic, scratching death-march whispering to him like haunted voices. Begging him for more.

And when it finally got too much for him, and he found an excuse to see her, or just trudged the familiar path to her house and sat in his familiar old tree on that familiar old branch - to watch, - or if it was late at night and her curtains were drawn he would just stare at those pitiful scraps of material as if he could see right through them, and wonder what she was dreaming about – and then a new feeling would overwhelm him.

Shame.

Shame in himself, that he – a thirty two year old man – was so sick and perverted that he needed his seventeen year old student like his lungs needed air to breathe.

_And you're crossing the room  
And you're talking to me  
And now I know what I see_

One way or another – he couldn't escape her. Either he felt the pain of the brain bugs which demanded more of her, or the pain of the shame of knowing that he was old enough to know that he must stop this unhealthy fixation now.

Either way there was pain. It didn't matter where it came from really. And the fact was, she was the bright to his darkness, the shaft of sunshine through the shadows he had cast throughout his life. She was the focus of his whole miserable existence. And the truth was he didn't want to give her up.

He was a junkie, and she was his fix.

_Those eyes are gonna make me fall  
One look I want it all  
Those eyes  
You've got me hypnotised  
_

_Those eyes are gonna see me through  
Pretty girl, I'm loving you  
Those eyes  
have got me hypnotised_

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you're liking it so far . . . Part 2 coming soon!


	2. Part Two

**A/N: Part Two.**

**Also I've made small changes to Part One, adding the song lyrics throughout. If you have time, read it again from start to finish, because I think it probably works better as a one-shot. Not sure.**

**Enjoy, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated! XD**

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PART TWO

_I don't even know your name  
Is this a dream  
Cause right now I feel so high  
I cant begin to explain  
My temperatures rising wild  
You're making me sweat  
Tonight is a night I'll never forget_

It was those eyes.

Those glittering orbs of pure emerald as enticing as a tropical sea on a summer's day. Those keen bright eyes, which seemed to look right through him and into his very soul, and made him ache with the need to please her. Those eyes could command anything of him. And he would obey.

Those eyes were his slaver.

He knew if he could just avoid those eyes he would be okay.

* * *

_He knew he should probably leave town. For good. It was for the best for everyone. _

_But still, no matter how many times he had spent all night willing himself to have the courage to do it (hell, a few times he had even packed up his belongings and written a letter to the Hokage which he propped on his kitchen table against his relinquished hitae-ate) he could not bring himself to do it. _

_One time he had even made it so far as the gates of Konoha in the dead of night, the few precious possessions he had gathered over his life parcelled away into the small pack that was flung over his shoulder. But as he had approached those omnipotent gates that loomed over him as if daring him to step through to the unknown beyond, his feet – as much as he urged them to press on – suddenly stopped and would not let him proceed further. He had stood there, staring up at those gates in anger and cursing Kami above that he, the Great Copy-Nin Kakashi, could not carry out so simple a task._

_But he knew why he couldn't. It was him. His willpower wasn't strong enough. He couldn't will himself to walk out of those gates and away from the centre of his very existence, because he knew it would kill him. Maybe not physically, but without her light to ignite his soul he would be little more than an empty shell, floundering in the dark. He was like a broken man, staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, knowing that if he pulled the trigger all the pain would be gone and he could float away into the blissful nothing where memories don't exist and the dark is consuming, but lacking the courage to take the final step and endure the initial pain of the act itself._

_And so, like all the others times he had returned to his apartment, shoulders slumped with defeat and hesitant acceptance. He would sit at his table in his silent, dark home and burn the letter with a small katon jutsu, watching through blurry eyes as his latest attempt went up in smoke before him, the sparks which danced and leapt from the flames laughing at him. Mocking him._

You couldn't do it_. They said. _We knew you couldn't do it_._

_And then he lay on his futon in the silent night staring up at the ceiling high above, as the brain bugs came and joined in with a chant of their own, the sound coming from inside his own skull as they marched through his aching head and drove their words home with millions of tiny needle-point legs._

You can't stop us._ They said. _Only_ she _can stop us_._

_He heard the chanted words grow louder and louder with every laboured breath through his lips and every beat of his broken heart, till he could no longer take their torment, and he flung himself off the bed and into the night like a haunted wraith into the tar-pit black abyss._

_With only one destination in mind._

* * *

_Those eyes are gonna make me fall  
One look I want it all  
Those eyes  
You've got me hypnotised_

The smell was driving him insane.

He smelt it above all else in the over-crowded little pub. There was the acidic smell of various liquors and beverages behind the bar in front of him, and the stronger, more rancid smell of deep set alcoholism rising from the now unconscious lump to his right. To his left the rank odour of an unclean body fought tooth and nail with a horrid contrast of overpowering musk cologne. The thick, sweet, wafting smoke from a nearby cigar assailed his nostrils as did the sporadic sickly smell of a combination of urine and vomit every time the door to the men's toilets opened and closed with a swing.

And yet, on top of all of that, he could still smell _her._

That perfumed bouquet that was truly and purely _Sakura._

It was as if she had marked him with her scent and now he was hers forever, and he could feel himself being drawn towards that intoxicating smell like a bird to the sweetest nectar. And he noticed something odd too -- as he downed his drink in record time in an effort to dull his senses some, on the contrary he became aware that the irresistible aroma was stronger now, and gaining in potency by the second.

A shadow passed into his peripheral vision then and that powerful scent became almost unbearable. And although his subconscious mind _knew_ what he would find there he could not help his body's natural urge to turn towards the perpetrator, as a lyrically soft voice asked the barkeep for a bottle of warm sake. But when that unmistakeable pink came in to his vision he quickly snapped his eyes forward again, and his heart rate rose along with his anxiety as he prayed that she hadn't recognised him.

He could just see her from the corner of his eye now, and he could see and sense that she was looking at him. Studying him as if she thought he was possibly someone she knew, but not yet sure enough to ask.

He heard a slight intake of air as her mouth opened then, and his heart raced wildly as he sensed she was about to speak to him. But then she closed it and looked away, seeming to think better of it, paid the barkeep and left with her bottle of sake in tow.

His shoulders slumped visibly as he relaxed with relief. Of course she didn't recognise him. She had been standing on his left, and so the side of his Sharingan, therefore he was completely masked on that side, his hair was still covered by the hood of his camouflage jacket, and he had also been sure to mask his chakra. That really went without saying in a place like this, he had chosen this bar purely because hardly any local shinobi came here, and there was less chance of him having to be sociable. However, it was a hot spot for out of town shinobi, and many an intoxicated nin would jump at the chance to take on Kakashi Hatake, the reluctant superstar of so many nations' Bingo Books.

His eyes unconsciously raised to watch her retreating figure in the mirror across the bar from him. He watched the sway of her silk-spun strawberry hair as it rippled across her back with every step, before she moved around the table where the girls she had entered with were seated, and took her own seat facing the bar. He tried to ignore her, to stay focused on his drink or the bustling bar around him, but his eyes kept drifting back up to the reflection that was – exasperatingly – in his direct line of vision.

_Those eyes are gonna see me through  
Pretty girl, I'm loving you  
Those eyes  
have got me hypnotised_

Kakashi lowered his head slightly, letting his hood fall to just above his line of vision, and watched her surreptitiously through the small window of light with his one visible eye.

Surreptitiously, soon became frequently, and then constantly. He watched her longingly, as she chatted animatedly with her friends, giggling, snickering, poking her tongue out, blushing, screwing her delicate little nose up in disgust, or making shocked little 'O' shapes with her mouth over some scandal or other that she was being told. And each little movement and emotion that graced her perfect face did glorious little things with those eyes, lighting them up in numerous and wonderful ways like a mischievous little kitten, or making them wide and dewy, in all their doe-eyed glory.

He watched as two of her friends started a conversation between themselves, and she looked away and around the bar curiously, but it wasn't long before those jade orbs snapped around to the bar, and suddenly they were locked directly on to Kakashi's own.

_Shit._

For a heart-stoppingly long second she stared straight at him, her keen eyes bright and penetrating, and Kakashi almost looked away in embarrassment before he realised that it was not possible for her to see that he was looking at her from where she was seated. She _was_ looking at him though, curiously again, with a puzzled expression on her face as if she was missing some huge clue that was staring straight at her.

_Hey girl, its now or never  
Those eyes are gonna last forever more_

Kakashi lowered his head even further, and pulled the sides of his hood closer around his ears.

It was time to get out of here.

He rose quickly from his chair in one fluid movement, the stool making a deep squeak of friction against the floorboards as it was pushed forcefully away from the counter. He put his head down and strode towards the door through the crowds of people dancing and embracing in the pub's darkened dance floor, the neon lights of warm reds and blues and greens lighting the faces of the people around him for merely a second before they continued their pulsating pattern of light elsewhere.

He looked only at the floor as he pushed forward through the crowd, watching the feet around him move aside as they made way for the mysterious stranger. He had finally made it to the centre of the dance floor when he came upon a pair of heeled shoes whose feet refused to move from his path. He raised his eyes slowly up a pair of long shapely legs, a black satin skirt which rippled like ebony water, a narrow, belted waist, a cerise cotton singlet, an elegant neck, bee-stung lips and a cute, pert little nose.

And into those eyes.

_And you're crossing the room  
And you're one step away_

They stood perfectly still, staring at each other for a long moment while the bar continued rambunctiously around them before either of them spoke a word. Those eyes nearly tearing a hole in his heart with the unanswered questions that he saw there.

"I thought it was you." She stated simply, and did he imagine the sadness he heard in her tone as she continued, "I know you saw me earlier at the bar. Why didn't you say anything?"

He could feel the perspiration that threatened to break loose on his brow, and he struggled to find his voice.

"I-" he croaked, stuttering uncharacteristically under the gaze of those all-consuming eyes, before silently ordering himself to compose. "I must have been distracted. Sorry, Sakura." He finished with an eye-crinkle that he hoped appeared far more genuine than it felt.

She studied him curiously for a moment, as if not quite believing his feeble attempt at nonchalance, then her brow furrowed as she realised something even more perturbing.

"Why are you wearing those clothes, sensei?"

For a moment he drew a blank, unable to think of a good excuse while she stood there curiously eying him up and down. It was the weight of those eyes again, boring into him, muddling his thoughts and straying his mind into forbidden fantasies.

He settled for shrugging his shoulders instead. He pushed the heavy hood back from his head, allowing his silver mop to breathe and stand up proudly again, but he left the scarf wrapped around his lower face.

"I don't really know, Sakura. I guess I just wanted to hide out for a bit. You know how it is." He sighed. Sometimes the truth was a whole lot less hassle.

Her eyebrows knitted again as for a moment she looked at him as if she had no idea who he was. Then her face relaxed, and she looked him over with that forlorn, almost sad expression on her face again for a long time.

Kakashi shifted under the weight of her gaze, but still he waited patiently for her next move.

He did not, however, expect what came from her mouth next.

"Will you dance with me, sensei?"

Kakashi swallowed. "I don't know if that's such a good idea Sakura-"

"-Please? It would mean a lot to me."

Kakashi's heart pounded relentlessly in his chest now. His mouth began to feel incredibly dry again, despite the amount of liquor he had downed already. He looked away from her and pretended to study the crowd around them while his mind desperately tried to formulate a plan that would let her down gently and allow him to make a quick escape. He finally managed to concoct an acceptable excuse and he turned to face her again, deciding he might as well give it a try.

She was looking up at him with those eyes.

Those god-damn, heart-wrenching, puppy dog eyes.

Even as he was thinking the words he had so carefully formulated in his head, he heard his mouth speak that fated word before he could do anything to stop it.

"Alright."

And there it was. That spark returned to her eyes as quickly as it had left, and it lit up her entire face like dawn breaking over an ocean horizon.

He felt his arms open, palms up, allowing her to take whatever stance she wished, and although he fully expected her to clasp his hand lightly and take the traditional pose for dance she shocked him yet again as she plunged forward inside the circle of his arms and slipped her dainty hands around his waist, leaving her poor, frazzled sensei no choice but to embrace her.

Her warmth against his chest was heavenly, and he felt like he might melt with delirium as he felt her press her face into the crook of his neck. His fingers trembled uncontrollably against her back as he rocked her gently from side to side in the warm comfort of his embrace, his other hand just as unstable as he raised it to tentatively cradle her head. He marvelled at the feel of the sweeping curve there and at how the back of her head fit snugly into the palm of his hand, as if it were made to belong there, her silken candy floss hair flowing like satin through his fingers.

The bouquet of her scent engulfed him now, and he was literally drunk on the intoxicating combination of the natural aroma of her porcelain skin, her sweet hot breath which tickled his neck as she nuzzled against his chest, the delicate scent of her sandalwood perfume, and the almost edible smell of her apple fragranced shampoo.

He couldn't stop himself; he felt as if he were possessed as he pressed his face towards that delightful scent, burying his nose in her locks and inhaling deeply, imprinting that aroma in his mind forever. His face contorted into a strange combination of pain and bliss as he revelled in his small moment of realised fantasy.

The brain bugs were completely silent now, this intimate contact with the object of his desires had quenched their insatiable thirst for the moment, and he felt a heavenly wave of peace wash over him as he held her tightly in his arms.

But still, in the back of his mind he knew that this union was bittersweet. His love was forever doomed to be unrequited; his punishment, his crippling cross to bear.

Kakashi felt that pained yearning rolling throughout his body in waves. He felt the nausea building slowly in his gut, the bile rising in the back of his throat, and as she began to circle her soothing fingers against his back a long shuddering shiver rolled down the length of his spine and his arms broke out into goose bumps. He even felt his tear ducts filling in anticipation of the tears of hopelessness which threatened to break loose, but which never would – for tears were a luxury that had long passed from his life, and all the tears in the world could not wash his soul clean of the countless years of loss.

He looked down at the top of her head, the hand that was there fell to her back to join the other, and, sensing his gaze she lifted her head slowly to look up at him.

_And I'm looking at you  
And my hearts in a daze  
What more can I say_

How strange it was to feel such an overwhelming sense of loss at the very time that he was as close to the object of his desire as he had ever been! Any fool who said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all had obviously never experienced it for themselves. The anguish that Kakashi felt knowing that this was as close as he would ever get, and that this blissful moment would pass far too quickly and then be gone forever was indescribable.

Out of all of the bars in Konoha, why had she come into this one? Was Fate - that eternal prankster, that meddling, age-old bastard - trying to kill him for good this time?

As she looked deep into his eyes and he fell into the insatiable black holes that were hers he felt all of his careful self control slipping away from him. He began to imagine that he saw reciprocated feelings in those eyes, that she desired him as much as he did her, and he knew that it would not take much more of this before he completely gave in to those urges and desires that he usually kept so closely guarded in the black fortress of his mind.

No, it would not take long now.

His mind spun out of control, overwhelmed with the bombardment of emotions that were flooding his senses. He felt himself falling in to those hypnotising orbs, with no way to brace himself from the fall - the rest of the world around them was a blur and all he could see was her.

And those eyes.

Full of naivety. Full of innocence. Full of childlike wonder.

Full of trust.

It was that realisation that hit home like a tempered dagger through his aching heart.

As lost in his desire as he was, there was one glaring truth that stopped him dead in his tracks.

He was in love with her. And that love would _never_ allow him to hurt her.

_Those eyes are gonna make me fall  
One look I want it all  
Those eyes  
You've got me hypnotised_

The trust in those eyes told him he had to stop now. The trust in those eyes broke him out of his spell and with what was probably the greatest effort of Kakashi's life, he tore his arms from around her waist, and stood motionless in front of her.

_Those eyes are gonna see me through  
Pretty girl, I'm loving you  
Those eyes  
have got me hypnotised_

Trying desperately not to look into those eyes again Kakashi drove that dagger home, deep within his heart, splitting it open so that it could never belong to another again. His heart would be hers forever.

"I have to go, Sakura."

Without waiting for her reply he fled from her side. With the grace and speed of only the elite he slipped through the crowd like an apparition, out through the door and into the night with only his haunted thoughts for solace, screaming in his head like a wounded banshee.

Only one set of eyes followed him.

_Yeah those eyes,  
You've got me hypnotised._

Those eyes that were his downfall.

* * *

Had he looked closely, he would have seen that those eyes contained something else.

Sakura watched as her sensei fled the dance floor, with a crippling sense of loss.

She felt the tears well up at her eyes, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest as the most important man in her life tore open the door to the busy Konoha bar and took off into the ebony night.

She watched as she felt that agonising pain again, that undeniable truth that she could never, nor would ever be good enough to be loved by such a great man. Her emerald eyes reflected her longing, and also the indescribable sadness that she felt every time that she looked at herself in a mirror; that she was too plain, too ordinary, too unremarkable to ever catch the eye of her extraordinary sensei.

Sakura watched sadly as the man that she had been in love with for the past three years walked away from her.

Again.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: There you have it! Phew (wipes brow) My first Completed FanFic! Yay (does psychotic dance of joy)**

**I hope you liked it. Please Review! Thankyou XP**


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